Curufin's Riding Lesson
by WatcherChild
Summary: The Noldor adapt to horsemanship in Beleriand.


Summary: The Noldor adapt to horsemanship in Beleriand.   
  
Author Note: Developed from a tantalizing plot idea from Finch's review of Chapter 12 in "A Father's Wish." Happy Belated Birthday, Finch!! For those of you unfamiliar with what a saddle looks like, see the link at the end of the story. Thanks very much to El Luitha for horse help!

                It was an odd-looking contraption, a parabolic piece of leather that was meant to be fitted over a mean warhorse. It had many straps and pieces that seemed to have no meaning to the horrified dark-haired Elf standing in front of it.

                "I shall not set foot near that infernal beast, and I most definitely shall not sit upon that – thing." 

                "You will!"

                "You cannot make me!"

                "I am the head of this House. I can make you do this and a host of even more unpleasant things!" The other Elf, unusually tall and copper haired, glared balefully at the dark-haired Elf.

                Off to the side, two fair Elves watched the unfolding events with a small amount of glee. "What do you think, Amrod?"

                The Elf in question cocked his head as he considered the drama in front of him. "As much as I admire Maedhros, Curufin is stubborn. And his skills are far too important for Maedhros to alienate him."

                "Good point, brother. But Maedhros is clever – far cleverer than Curufin. You know he will find a way to make Curufin bow to his wishes, just as he has done in the many years past."

                The twins exchanged a glance. "Wager?" they asked each other in unison.   
                Maedhros and Curufin, oblivious to the stakes of the argument, alternated between roars and glares. The "infernal beast" also contributed by snorting and neighing. "I am telling you, Maedhros, I do not need it." The dark-haired Elf clenched his fists as he disdainfully looked at the horse.

                "And I am telling you that you do need it," snapped the copper-haired brother. "Curufin, it is only a saddle."

                "Have you forgotten that our horsemanship is far superior to the Sindar? We do not need their odd inventions to do what is natural for us." Now Curufin flicked the pile of leather a disdainful glance as well. "I may not be as good a rider as Celegorn, but I have never needed a saddle to stay on a horse."  
                Maedhros sighed. "Even Celegorm has agreed to use a saddle. And have you forgotten that the Sindar are more experienced in warfare than we are?" His voice slipped into lecturing mode. "As I have said, using a saddle has several advantages. First off, it prevents the rider from being unseated, something that is far more likely to happen in battle than during peaceful rides in the pastures. Secondly, when you use a spear, the saddle will keep you from falling off when the horse jolts suddenly. Thirdly, -"

                Curufin held up his hands. "Yes, yes, I see your point. But a saddle is so…ugly." He glanced at the warhorse behind his brother. "So is the horse."

                The horse gave Curufin an unimpressed glance.

                "Would you prefer a dainty filly?" sneered Maedhros. 

                 "That horse could eat me if he became hungry enough."

                The warhorse nickered again.

                Maedhros nodded in agreement. "I agree. I would rather eat raw fish myself." He beckoned the beast with his left hand. "Curufin, this is Vorimcol, your new mount. Take him for a ride and learn his paces. Vorimcol, this is your new rider. Treat him gently. The forges have made him soft." With one last commanding look at his brother, Maedhros purposefully strode away.

                Curufin spluttered at his brother's retreating figure and barely held back from stamping his foot in frustration. "Soft?" He turned to glare at the horse, who gave the irritated Elf a superior look. Barking at one of the stable hands, Curufin ordered him to show him how to saddle the horse. He hurriedly tightened the first cinch behind the front legs of the horse and the second cinch around the horse's belly, towards the rear of the saddle. He fitted the bridle cautiously – the horse really did look like it wanted to bite his new master. When he was finally done, he turned his attention to where his feet would rest. "At least something on this ridiculous contraption is pleasing," he grunted as he adjusted the stirrups. The small amount of steel on the stirrups pleased him – after all, he was a metal worker. 

                The horse neighed again.

                 "Don't be stupid," snapped Curufin. "I absolutely will not groom you. Now stay right here while I go change into riding clothes." With that, he stomped away, muttering about vain horses and overly pragmatic elder brothers.  
  


                Taking advantage of Curufin's absence, Amras approached the horse quietly, his brother following a few steps behind him. "That did not go very well." 

                 "Stating the obvious, little brother?"   
                 "You are insufferable, not so very big brother." With a friendly smile, Amras held out an apple to Vorimcol. "Curufin needs a riding lesson."

                The horse butted his head against Amras's chest in agreement. 

                Amrod stroked the horse's neck. "As his brothers, we should help him." 

                "It would be a – fraternal thing to do."  
  


                Curufin strode back ten minutes later. He was clothed in a warmer tunic, for the evening was swiftly approaching. He had also donned partial armor and had brought along his spear so that he could grow adjusted to sitting on the saddle as he would during battle.  

                After throwing the horse a cautious glance, he strapped the spear to the horse, and then he placed tentative hands on the swell and the cantle of the saddle, only to discover that the leather was rather slippery. Frowning, he tightened his grip and placed a foot within the stirrup and hoisted himself up… 

                Only to have the entire saddle roll his way.  

                What happened next could only be described as utter mayhem. 

                Curufin landed on the hard ground, his backside painfully screaming from the impact. Several stable hands rushed to help, but Vorimcol, not used to such a clumsy rider – and perhaps filled with mischief – reared suddenly. Curufin, panicking about being flattened and eaten, rolled aside to avoid being stomped by the horse. The ruckus and noise attracted several more people, including Maedhros, who loudly demanded to know why his brother was rolling on the ground. 

                Amras and Amrod watched from the side, identical sympathetic looks pasted on their far too innocent faces.  
  


                After several more minutes of chaos, the horse finally calmed down, and Curufin finally stood up. "That infernal beast almost killed me!" he shouted.

                "Maybe if you properly saddled the horse, you would not have made such a spectacle of yourself!" Maedhros pinched the bridge of his nose. "All I asked you to do was ride the horse around the paddock."

                "I know I tightened the cinches properly!"

                Taking advantage of his superior height, Maedhros loomed over his brother. "Then why," he asked in a clipped voice, "did your saddle roll over?"

                Curufin was about to snarl back when his eyes fell upon his angelic looking brothers. Gray eyes narrowing, he suddenly realized the culprits. "The twins did it!"

                Maedhros gave the twins a cursory glance. "Don't be silly. Why would the twins do such a thing?" He smiled tenderly at them. "They have no cause for mischief."

                Curufin's mouth dropped open. Maedhros's blind spot of the twins was well known, but surely this was going too far. "Maedhros, you know as well as I that the they are most certainly not above such mischief! Have you forgotten what they used to do when we were younger?"

                "Amrod, Amras," said Maedhros gently. Both of them immediately came to stand by his side docilely. "Is what Curufin saying true?"

                "Of course not, Russandol," they both replied innocently. Their faces were schooled into hurt expressions, and with the use of Maedhros's nickname, Curufin knew that their eldest brother was on the side of the twins.

                Maedhros gave Curufin a stern glance. "You see, Curufin, there is nothing afoot here, save for your inattentiveness. Amrod and Amras are already very familiar with using saddles. Perhaps you should ask them for help."

                It took Curufin a few moments to work his jaw properly. For a few moments, he failed to remember that he was currently in East Beleriand. Instead, he was back at home, where Maedhros would be rebuking him for something that the twins had done. Deciding that there was no point in arguing with Maedhros, he hissed an acknowledgment. 

                "Good. You may try again tomorrow." Maedhros patted Amrod's shoulder before leaving.

                Curufin watched Maedhros leave before he turned to his youngest brothers. "You may have fooled him, but you had best be careful. Remember who the chief craftsman is." With a final sneer directed at the twins and at Vorimcol, Curufin stalked away.

                "I believe you owe me a bottle of wine, Amrod. Maedhros did win." 

                "Remind me not to gamble against you, Amras."   
  
Notes: 

- Russandol is an affectionate family name of Maedhros.

- Vorimcol = translated roughly from Quenya into "Faithful bearer."

- On saddles: While Elves are generally acknolwdged as riding without saddles, it seemed a bit improbably during wartime.

- Don't know what a saddle looks like? Go see a picture of a general saddle here: . Elven saddles would obviously be very different, but this picture will give you an idea where the cinches, swells, etc., are.

- Next (and final!) chapter: Curufin's revenge.


End file.
